Resurgence
by Awahili
Summary: A fix-it fic for 2x09. After Jamie's talk with Max, she visits Mitch in an effort to mend their relationship. A one-shot in response to a Tumblr prompt from televinita.


Because I choose to disbelieve anything about THAT scene. It never happened.

* * *

Jamie forced her hands not to shake as she rapped softly on the door. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, and her heart was hammering in her chest as she waited for Mitch to answer the door. She heard shuffling footsteps on the other side, and Jamie took a steadying breath as the wooden panel slid away to reveal Mitch in a rather adorable flannel bathrobe. She quirked an eyebrow at him in question, but he seemed more perplexed by her presence than by her concern over his attire.

"Jamie," he canted his head slightly, "what are you doing here?"

"Peace offering," she held up the martini in her hand, glad to see her nerves had calmed enough to keep the drink steady.

Mitch stepped back from the door and swept a hand in invitation, allowing her into his room before sliding the door closed behind him. He accepted the drink from her, but didn't take a sip right away. "I wasn't aware we were at war."

Jamie recalled the rather quick, almost dismissive conversation they'd shared that morning over the bone table. He'd mentioned starting over, and her own emotions had been so turbulent that the only thing she could come up with in response was "Yeah, let's move on." She'd practically seen his walls slam back up as he processed her words, but before she could clarify or explain he'd launched into his snake-hyena-bear-lion rant.

"We aren't," she told him, letting her eyes wander over the mess of his room rather than look him in the eye. She didn't want to see the hurt he was trying to hide, or the anger he had spent all day keeping under control. "But I've been a bitch to you recently, and I just...I guess I want to apologize."

"Hey," he turned and set the glass down on an empty corner of his dresser, sliding the base under a pile of folders and papers. When he turned back she had folded her arms over her chest, and he sighed. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. Really if anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I didn't mean to drag you through the family reunion from hell."

"Actually, I'm glad I met your father," she told him, drawing a look of surprise from him. She let her hands fall to her sides and offered him a half-smile. "He's…"

"A pain in the ass?" Mitch supplied.

"I was going to say an interesting character. You and he have a lot in common." It was the exact wrong thing to say, and Mitch's face hardened in anger. Jamie swallowed over the sudden lump at her misstep and rushed on. "Not like that," she shook her head, "but you're both brilliant. And you both are really good at pretending things don't bother you."

Something about her knowing tone cut through his anger and piqued his interest. "You talked to him, didn't you? After?"

"Just for a second," she told him. "He forgot his fish." She smiled, hoping to lighten the awkward heaviness that had settled between them, but he didn't return it. "Anyway, he asked me to tell you that he loves you."

Mitch snorted derisively. "He has a funny way of showing it."

"Well, you aren't exactly the pinnacle of filial love, are you?" She fired back. "You spent the entire day letting him know just how much you dislike him. When was he supposed to tell you?"

Mitch huffed and stalked over to the far side of the room near the bathroom. Jackson and Abe shared the one across the way, so Mitch didn't have a suite-mate. But the door was closed anyway, leaving him nowhere to escape her harsh truths. With nowhere to run, he turned on her and lashed out. "I can't believe you're defending him!"

"I'm not," she kept her voice even and calm despite the adrenaline coursing through her, "I'm just saying that since I met him, I think I understand you a bit better." She let that stand for a moment, taking his silence as acquiescence. She shuffled closer, hitching her hip against the desk. She couldn't actually see the surface between the discarded shirts, papers, and glass bottles, and it was these last pieces that made her chew her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"I know that look," Mitch jutted a finger at her with a hint of that easy teasing that they had found before the plane crash that had tossed their world upside down.

"It's just…" She hesitated, unsure how he would respond to her words in this new delicate balance they'd struck. But, as he'd demonstrated so often in the past year, he seemed to be on her wavelength.

"Hey," he caught her attention, pulling her eyes from the desk to his face, "what is it?"

"Nothing," she waved him off. "It'll keep. Look, I just wanted to come and...I don't know, figure stuff out, I guess."

"And by stuff, you mean…?" It was clear he wasn't going to try and interpret her words. She guessed he didn't want her to snap at him again.

"This," she gestured between them. "Us."

For the first time in a long time, she saw something spark in his eyes. If she had to put a name to it she'd call it hope, though it was something she hadn't felt in a long while. The pain he masked behind his sharp tongue and tired eyes receded ever so slightly, and she watched his throat work through a swallow.

"Us," he repeated lamely, obviously at a loss for anything else to say. "You mean...start over?" It was the same request he'd made earlier, before she'd messed everything up with her vague concession. She wasn't going to make the same mistake.

"No," she shook her head sharply. "I don't want to start over. I don't want to move on." Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the remaining distance between them until he had to tilt his head to look down at her. "I don't want to pretend none of it happened. I just...I don't know how to go on from here. It feels like the whole damn world moved on without me, and ever since I got back I've been running to catch up." Her breath hitched as her emotions swelled, but she refused to cry now. "And I'm just so tired."

Her hair curtained around her face as she dropped her chin in an effort to hide the traitorous tear that fell down her cheek. She sucked in a sharp breath when one of his hands moved to cup her cheek, urging her gently to meet his gaze. As she did his fingers curled under her ear and around her neck, sending tendrils of warmth through her. Slowly she lifted her eyes, sniffling quietly as he traced the path of her tear with his thumb.

"Then rest, Jamie. Stop running from everything and just...rest."

Her hiccup morphed into a sob and she tipped forward the few inches to land against his chest. His hand moved from her neck to her shoulder, pulling her more fully against him as her arms banded around his back. The bathrobe she had been ready to tease him about before was soft under her cheek, and it smelled so much like him that she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

The moment was cut short as Mitch's door slid back suddenly. "Mitch, hey I just -" Allison stopped halfway through her step into his room, her mouth open in shock as she took in the scene. Jamie pushed back from Mitch, her eyes alight with indignation. She opened her mouth to say something snappy, but Mitch beat her to it.

"What the hell are you doing?" he stormed over to her and muscled her back into the hallway. "You can't just barge in here."

"I just thought -"

But Mitch wasn't having it. Her coy demeanor might have worked with his father, but he knew all too well what she was capable of. "Obviously not, or you wouldn't have bothered showing up. Good night, Allison." He slid the door closed once more, shutting her out of his life - hopefully this time for good. He took a calming breath and turned around with an apologetic grimace. "Sorry."

Jamie had long since wondered what Allison's role in his life had been, and today had been a very enlightening day indeed. It was clear that her betrayal had cut him deep - could very well be the reason he kept everyone at arm's length. Where she had once been envious of their shared history, now Jamie was filled with a sadness that he'd had to endure that sort of pain. She also knew that he didn't want to talk about it right now, so she used one of his own tricks against him. Dry humor.

"Wonder what she wanted," she drawled, and Mitch's mouth curved up in a smile.

"She's been somewhat less than subtle on that, actually."

"Does she actually think you'll take her back?" It seemed ludicrous after all that happened between her and the Morgan men, but Jamie couldn't deny that there was still a very tiny piece of her that worried about that exact scenario.

Mitch once again seemed to sense her discomfort, and he reached out to grasp her hand in his fingers. "Well, if she does, she's crazier than my father and Jackson's put together."

Feeling emboldened by his somewhat clumsy attempt at flirting, she shifted her hand sideways until she could interlock their fingers. "Are you sure?" She was teasing now, and he answered it with a quick huff of laughter.

"Fairly sure," he said finally. "Besides, I've recently found myself pretty attached to fiery red-headed journalists with nine toes. Know any?"

Her answer was a kiss, as sudden and unsure as that fateful night on the plane. This time, however, there was no turbulence to interrupt them. His fingers tangled in her hair as her own found purchase in his robe, tugging him impossibly closer.

They were both breathing heavily when they pulled apart, but neither wanted to let go just yet. Jamie pressed her forehead into his cheek as he wrapped both arms over her shoulders. His embrace was tight but not constricting, and she felt the exhaustion of the last months settle over her like a heavy blanket. She sagged against him bonelessly, and he shifted his stance to take more of her weight.

"I think it's time to get you to bed," he whispered, feeling her sluggish nod. He turned toward the door, fully intent on walking her across the hall to her room, but she woke up enough to stop his movement. He chuckled into her hair, running a hand over the crown of her head affectionately. "Alright." He managed to get them to his bed, laying her down on the covers. He took her shoes off carefully, mindful of her still-healing foot. She no longer limped badly, though her gait was affected if she was too tired or upset. Still, he took a moment to make sure the bandages were secure before reaching over to pull the other side of the blanket over her like a cocoon.

"Rest, Jamie. I'll be right here."


End file.
